EATING GUTS FROM THE GUTTER
SIMON B. ON THE MOST UNDERRATED DINING EXPERIENCE IN PARIS
No one likes letting food go to waste more than the people who pay for it.
They did pay for it after all, why shouldn’t they leave half a dry-aged chateaubriand on their plate? Often they’re not even at the restaurant for the food, they’re just there, inexplicably. To us, the people that are there for them and a small paycheck, the people who manipulate, plate, and serve the food, the people who could never afford to pay for that chateaubriand even with an employee discount? For us that’s wild. Food left on plates makes every restaurant worker anxious, from the cooks down to the dishwasher. We know intimately the effort it takes to prepare a meal, the hours needed before a finished product ends up on a guests plate, so when a dish comes back to the pit half-eaten or worse, barely picked at, it leaves us wondering.
“Why didn't they finish it? Did they not like it? What the fuck went wrong?”
These were the thoughts of an amateur. Me. These were my thoughts before I learned to paint masterpieces with food scrap.
“The dish pit is your studio and the leftover food is your palette. Here you are free to create unholy combinations with whatever material lies at your fingertips.”
These are the words of Parker, the wine director at my first big restaurant job in Paris, and my biggest inspiration for gutter cuisine. We called her Parker, as in Robert Parker, because she made guests drink exactly what she wanted them to drink and ruined the market for anything else. The restaurant itself was medium-sized, 60 seats, with 2 Michelin stars, a tasting menu, and bleached linen on every table. Classical yet modern, but not modern enough to scare anybody. The average age of patrons was probably 55 and the average tax bracket was higher than I can ever hope to reach. You get the picture, the painting, the idyllic French landscape. Parker was perfect for it. Tall, stunning and able to charm even the sternest guests, her resume read like a World’s 50 Best List. She carried herself with grace, poise, and all other things you need to run a wine program at a top Parisian bistro.
And yet?
Escoffier would have her thrown in jail if he ever saw the things she did in the dish pit. Guests would march right out of our front door if they knew where her hands had been. That’s the beauty of the front of house/back of house dichotomy, the guest only sees the ballet, not the mangled feet of the dancers or the painkillers they have to inject to get on stage. The guests couldn’t handle that, they don’t want to know. Let them have their illusion. Let them believe someone as front-facingly sophisticated as Parker wouldn’t stuff her mouth with the half chewed bones of their confit canard carcass, pour l’orange sauce down her gullet and finish with the duck-fat roasted potatoes they never touched because their diet doesn’t allow it.
“Food waste is a global epidemic, they develop apps to fight this kind of stuff. But me? I’ve turned sustainability into an artform.”
She really did. It was beautiful to witness. At first I was shocked, but I quickly followed suit. Whenever there was a lull in service you could find us in the pit, soaking bread in sauce or foam or whatever the chef had come up with that week. What we did took guts and stealth. We always had an eye on the boss, and had a system in place so he would never catch on. First, never leave the pit with food in your mouth. Second, always scrape the plates you’ve stolen from. Lastly, mix with abandon. Parker knew the best pairings, like any good sommelier should, and once she understood I was on the same team, we began collaborating. Have you ever eaten half an andouillette covered in the dregs of a molecularized cheese souffle? Because I have, and I would again. Sometimes our creations were so good, we were tempted to call the chef to try, even if that surely meant losing our jobs. As creative as the food scene in Paris claims to be, getting your inspiration from the dish pit is a step too far.
You’re probably wondering, why do it at all if it meant risking our livelihood? The love of the game? That was part of it. Another part was, these motherfuckers were too cheap to make us an evening snack. We got staffies at 3PM, but if you’re working 12 hour shifts then you get pretty hungry by 10 o’clock and the kitchen is always too busy to feed the front-of-house at that point. Chef is watching his food costs too. He’d rather scream at you then toss you a piece of bread. So we took our stomachs into our own hands.
I was only at that job for three months, filling in for someone on maternity leave, but I’ll never forget my time eating in the dish pit. Parker left not too long after me, I think she’s managing a spot in Barolo country now. Pushing the boundaries of pasta combinations, no doubt. Eventually I outgrew my tiny Paris apartment with the shared bathroom down the hall and moved out of the city altogether. Back in Stockholm it’s the same thing everywhere I work. Stop eating french fries from dead plates, don’t empty the breadbaskets into your mouth, please let that pickled herring go into the trash untouched. Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. People don’t understand, so I try to spread the gospel to whoever will listen.
Have you ever stuffed your face with half a mussel gratin, three quarters of a pork rillette and a side of harissa paste in between seatings?
Do you want to?
Simon B. is a sommelier and guts enthusiast working in Stockholm, Sweden. We first met taking a business and leadership class at the
Academy and have since shared plates of brain at Le Baratin, finanziera in the Langhe and plenty of low-intervention wine in Malmö. He came to me to with a draft for this story and we worked on it together, which is something I would love to do more of. If you are a hospitality professional in need of an editor and a platform for a story, hit us up at gutsmagazzino@gmail.com
AND THE MARCH VOGUE MONEY WINNERS ARE…
To paraphrase Stuntman Mike, you know how people say, “you’re OK, in my book”? or “in my book, that’s no good”? Well, I actually have a book. And if you send me a piece of you’re writing, you’re in that book. Everybody who sends me an entry for our monthly writing competition is a winner in my book.
I’m afraid only one person can claim the prize, but I really do appreciate every word you send me. The amount of entries shrank a bit last month, but I will keep doing this as long as people are interested!
IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER, THE HONORABLE MENTIONS:
Doctor would kill you
if he knew. You think it's blood,
phew. You're fine. Just wine.
-Ilona G,
To rule Olympus, Zeus would need his siblings, currently sitting half digested inside their father’s stomach.
- (he recently wrote a hypnotizing piece about going Vegan at a Chinese buffet in Flushing here)
one hour of parenting a sick four-year-old
1pm vomit
1:07 - 1:45pm eleven sips water
1:49pm sip electrolyte
2:06pm vomit
“Vomit early, vomit often.”
Al Capone teaching Chicago school children how to prevent a hangover, probably.
-JAKE MIKE BOY
I haven't truly moved in to a new apartment until I've thrown up in the toilet.
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, Buttered Popcorn (check out his great review and pairing of the film Holy Cow with a three year old comté and a delicious sounding vin jaune here. Even seeing the word savagnin makes me thirsty.)AND THE PRIZE WINNING ENTRY IS…
Fear grips my stomach
Dignity plummets
I brace to hurl
And to lose my best girl
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, Mise En Scene, natisgee on InstagramAll of these entries reminded me of myself in some way, vomit is close to my heart, but this one in particular got to me. Thank you Natalie! Do yourself a favor and check out her newsletter Mise-En-Scène, where she invites interesting people to write about their favorite film scenes and personal mise-en-scène. The latest, with
speaking on Near Dark (1987) is fantastic. Natalie is also working on a legacy project honoring a Broadway legend with details to come…NEXT MONTH’S THEME IS…
“HOW THE SAUSAGE GETS MADE”
Another month, another thinly veiled metaphor for guts. Once again, would love to see hospitality workers send me some stuff. I want to read what goes on inside!!
GUTS has 15 paid subscribers this month, which means the “VOGUE MONEY” competition has a word limit of 15, and award of $67.50! Since I am a bit late with announcing the theme, I will extend the deadline to May 9th, and I will announce May’s theme the week before.
Send us what you got! No limits on form at all!
Please send all entries to gutsmagazzino@gmail.com
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Beyond honored!